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She heard the footsteps advancing in her direction, just before she saw the familiar hair of head. She stopped, her heart beating, almost jumping out of her chest as Azriel came in front of her. He was dressed in his usual uniform, weapons of different kinds strapped across his chest and his waist. Had he always looked that handsome in it, or was she just blind to see it all this while?

He had been away at the King’s palace for days on end, and she couldn’t believe she had missed him so much it almost made her dizzy with joy.

“Just the one person I was looking for,” Azriel gave her that lopsided smile, and she had to clutch the basket tighter as her knees buckled beneath her. Without warning, Azriel dipped his head to draw a kiss from her, but she quickly stepped away, putting some distance between them.

“We can be seen, my Lord,” Penelope said.

Azriel’s smile never left his face. “So we are back to calling me ‘my Lord’ now,” he came closer so he was at ear level with her, even though there was no one in sight. “I prefer other terms you called me one certain night.”

Penelope gasped, and she whipped her head to look behind her. Sure enough, there were the voices of the maids advancing toward them.

Pen looked back to Azriel, and in a voice loud enough, she said, “Yes, my Lord. The flowers have been weeded and the chambers have been cleaned out. There will be no need for re-cleaning it, my Lord, and I am sure of it once you see it for yourself.”

Azriel’s features morphed into confusion, and as he raised his head, taking notice of the voices for the first time, he gave a hearty laugh that made Penelope whip her head around again.

.....

“Stop it,” She hissed.

Azriel managed to school his expression into a more serious one, but the twinkle of laughter still lit up his eyes. The maids finally approached, and Penelope could hear their halting footsteps and their tumbling greetings.

“We all saw to the cleaning, my Lord,” Penelope continued with her ruse.

“Very well then, that’s all I need to know,” Penelope was grateful he took to his commanding tone. “I would need you to run me an errand at once.”

“What is it, my Lord?” The maid behind her asked in a sugar-laden voice. Penelope wished to could use her basket to hit her.

But Azriel never took his eyes off Pen. “I would need water, Pen. Turns out I am indeed very thirsty.”

If a bomb went off, it was in Penelope’s body. Red splattered her entire body, and she had no control over her skin as it bloomed redder than the roses after a night’s rain and the morning’s sun.

Satisfied by his treacherous statement, Azriel gave a nod and left them. Penelope hurried away to the direction of the kitchen before the maids could even speak, and she dropped the laundry, used a hand to fan her face, and the tumbling in her stomach did not abate.

A maid stepped in, and Penelope was not fast enough to hide her face.

“Goodness Pen! Are you ill?” A concerned hand was placed on her forehead. “Oh, you’re a bit heated? Do you feel sick?”

“No…the Master, my Lord…,” Penelope stuttered. “I am fine. I have to get him water. But I am completely fine.”

She really had to control herself.

“Oh, do go on then.” The maid said, unsure.

Penelope was fast. A jug of water and a cup later, she was hurrying up to Azriel’s chambers. It was until she stood in front of the door did her heartbeat resume its fast pace. She hadn’t been in there after the last time.

Should she drop the jug with a guard? In front of the door?

She wasn’t able to decide, because a voice from inside called, “Come in.”

So she pushed the door open. Close to the window, where a lone table stood, Azriel was dumping the knives on him over the scattered pieces of paper on the table. His hands were on his actions, and his eyes were on Pen.

And there came that twinkle in his eyes.

“Took you so long,” Azriel said. “And I hope you know I am a demon. So I can hear you outside the door without you knocking.”

“I am sorry, my Lord. I was occupied with another chore,” Penelope said. She cleared her throat when silence drew between them. “Where do I put this water?”

“Did I ask you for water?”

“Yes…just now.”

“You know what I am talking about, Pen,” Azriel said. Once again, her body exploded in a scorching blush.

Azriel removed the last of his weapon, a larger knife with an ornamental hilt strapped to his side. He moved around the bed, his eyes never leaving Pen’s from across the room. He sat on the bed, facing her, and she wanted to bolt out the doors behind her.

“Drop the jug Pen,” he said, the cadence of his voice dropping into a low tone.

Penelope reached the table to the side, managing to drop the tray without it spilling a drop.

“Come here,” Azriel said.

Penelope looked at the door behind her. “My Lord, I can’t. I have chores to get to…”

“Leave it.”

“But if I don’t…”

“…then I will say I said so.”

“…but….”

“Come here, Pen,” he reiterated.

Penelope pursed her lips and set her eyes downcast.

No Pen. You don’t want this to continue. It was only once, that’s all. Leave now. He won’t run after you.